Edge City Chronicles 14 (Patreon)

The Crazy Knights were a very weird group on all counts, but at least they weren't that difficult to find. Considering they were rich third generations and movers and shakers in the city, they often either hung out at popular places or even had their own small clubs or bars they owned outright. Places like the Dragon's Den were still off limits to them; wealth didn't automatically translate into power or access, especially not in a city like Edge City. I didn’t need to hunt for these guys, anyway, as Mercer had given me the location of the warehouse they had the crate I was looking for. I could go over, storm the place, shoot their dumb asses up and get the crate back, or I could take a different tack. Part of it would depend on how willing they were to cooperate, but I figured I’d try playing nice before I played nasty; always easier to catch flies with honey rather than vinegar.

I was getting a bit annoyed with riding the metro around everywhere, not that the city’s overly congested traffic would have made driving much faster, but I wasn’t going to just randomly buy a car before doing some homework. Now, killing some Scavs and taking a car they had, that was much more to my liking and the style of this new life of mine, but most of those guys had small trucks or work vans. Something was better than nothing, but I was looking for something a little different, and besides, Scav vehicles had a certain sense about them…well, let’s just say I would be happy with even a regular, basic sedan over a Scav vehicle and leave it there.

My musings took me to the location of their warehouse, and I strolled up casually like I had an appointment, which I did, in a way, even if the Crazy Knights didn’t know it. There were four cars in the lot, which I doubt meant the place was full, but there were likely more than four people inside. They didn’t have anybody outside, either, which was a bit sloppy, but I could clearly see the cameras they had around the place. From what I knew, netrunners and hackers could bypass those things, but most people, even a lot of solos, wouldn’t have the gear or skills to interfere with even basic equipment. Conversely, skilled solos or teams wouldn’t be stopped by anything like that, not that cameras stopped someone, per se, but throwing out a quick hack and slipping by was child’s play.

I entered through what I assumed was the front door, finding a very short hallway and an open door into an area like a lounge. I guess the warehouse exterior was a bit misleading or they had just rebuilt a chunk of the inside to be more comfortable. I very quickly had all eyes on me as I walked in, from the two guys sitting at a small table to my right to the half dozen men and women sitting in one of those circular couch arrangements at the back of the room. Having a 7’2” mountain of muscle in combat gear walk into a room tended to be attention grabbing and I saw a few hands nervously reaching for weapons before I held up a hand to try to break up some of the tension.

“Just here to make a deal,” I stated, keeping my own hands free from my weapons as I walked over to the circular couch.

“You look like you’re here for a special kind of deal,” one of the kids said, and they were kids. Well, I needed to remember I was young again, but the guy in the central position across from me on the couch had made the comment, and he couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three. It also liked he was in charge, with everyone else deferring to him when he spoke.

“You guys got your hands on something recently,” I said, not bothering to hide my glance at the case on the table in the middle of the circular couch, a table that had the case I had been sent to retrieve sitting right in the center. “Something a client of mine wants back. They sent me over to see if I could…work out a deal.”

“That sounds tough, choom,” the leader said, sitting back with a small grin and looking at his cohorts, who also grinned or snickered. “We just happen to having somethin’ like that, but we can’t just hand it over, choom.”

“I wasn’t planning on just taking it, choom,” I said, just keeping from rolling my eyes at the slang. “I was planning on making an offer on it and seeing how we could get on from there.”

“’How we could get on’? The hell century you from, choom?” asked one of them, laughing.

“This one, unfortunately,” I replied, which killed the mood slightly. That was fine, I wasn’t there to be there lunchtime entertainment, I was there on a job.

“Listen, choom, we can’t just give something like this away, right?” the leader asked.

“Again, I can pay for it,” I said with a slight shake of my head. “What about two hundred creds?”

“Two hundred creds?!” one of the other goons exclaimed, which seemed the sentiment of the whole group, as they were all looking at me like I was a madman. The guy got up off the couch and pulled his piece, starting to wave the pistol around, saying, “We wouldn’t sell you a Mickie’s for two hundred creds. Who the fuck you think you are?”

A Mickie’s was a cheap beer, by the way, and the way these guys tried to play at gangster while still speaking rather well, overall, and acting in a much more relaxed manner than a lot of street toughs would. Of course, this asshole had just pulled a gun on me, which was always a bad idea, and I went from feeling just slightly charitable to feeling like I needed to teach these stupid wannabes a lesson real fast. I was always getting tangled up with wannabe toughs, it seemed, though I guess that was a little better than constantly getting tangled up with actual toughs that would give me a real challenge, and some real danger of serious injury.

I moved then, grabbing the gun right out of the punk’s hand before kneecapping him, though only with a fast kick, moving around him and knocking out the next guy with a fast punch across the jaw before leaping across the table, only touching it with three fingers, and kicking a woman with a bit of chrome over the couch and into the side wall of the room, spinning to backhand the fourth person. I grabbed the wrist of the ringleader, driving the knife in his hand into the jacket of the fifth person on the couch, elbowing that person in the forehead at the same time before turning and shooting the gun out of one of the two thugs at the tables hands, turning the gun as I twisted the ringleader and slammed him down into the table and placing the muzzle against his forehead.

“Freeze!” I commanded, and the rest of the room, miraculously, did freeze, even the woman painfully picking herself up off the ground. “This could have been simple, choom, real nice and easy. You stole something you shouldn’t have, and I was sent to get it back. I make an offer, you laugh and throw out a higher offer, we haggle a little, you get some money from your not-so-petty theft, I get the package, we all win. But you and your boys had to act tough, throw out threats, pull guns. Bad mistake. Very bad mistake. Now, I’m going to take this package and walk out of here, and if any of you even think about stopping me, I’ll walk out after making sure none of you ever walk again. Understand me?”

“I got it, choom, I got it!” the ringleader panted, remaining perfectly still against the table.

“Good, good. I’m so glad we could work this out,” I said, making sure to maintain awareness of the room as I grabbed the box with my left hand and checked it. Seeing it was correct, I stood up, still keeping a bead on the ringleader for a moment as I took a few steps back to get in the clear, watching him shakily, barely straighten up to his feet. “Let me give you a free piece of advice before I go, too. I’m still considered a rookie Solo, a novice, someone the big players won’t even look at. The game you’re playing is way over your heads, so either get in with a crew that knows what they’re doing and get trained, or stop playing. If someone even a little more experienced had gotten this job, you would all be dead, and no one would ever know why or how. Think about that.”

I backed up to the door, still keeping the ringleader covered as I walked out backward, shutting the door in front of me and then backing out the main entrance, whereupon I rolled around the frame of the door and scanned the area around the warehouse. Apparently, they hadn’t called for backup, or, if they had, it wasn’t going to be getting here any time soon. I slid along the length of the warehouse and hit the fence, easily vaulting it and taking a different route to the metro station than I had getting their. Always important to try to sow a little confusion among any pursuer.

I made my way back to Mercer, going in through a different direction than I had the last time. With all the surveillance and such around, it wasn’t really fooling anybody all that much, but it was still a good habit, in my mind, and one I was going to keep up for the foreseeable future. I gave Voronov a nod as I walked up, getting a slight nod in response, and sat the package on the table before sitting my ass on the bench across from the grumpy old man. Mercer was on a call, as usual, and I waited a minute for him to finish up and look at the package before we spoke.

“Good job. Any issues?” he asked.

“Not really. Was going to go in and negotiate for it, but one of the dumb mooks pulled a gun on my right away, so I got a little physical,” I said. Seeing Mercer’s concern, I held a hand up immediately to forestall him, saying, “Relax, I didn’t go too far. Roughed them up a little bit, made the leader think better of his life choices, and gave them all a little lesson before leaving.”

“A lesson? You some kinda sage now or somethin’?” Mercer asked acerbically.

“Not really. Just explained that, if they’re gonna steal shit like that, shit with a big marker on it, that they’re playing in the big leagues now. Told ‘em that I’m not even that good, just a rookie, and that if someone serious had gone in, they would’ve all been dead before they realized it and no one would’ve been able to figure out what had happened,” I explained.

“Well, you got the job done, so that’s what matters,” Mercer said, nodding to one of his other guards, who walked over and took the box…somewhere. Didn’t really concern me.

“What’s next?” I asked.

“Got two jobs here,” Mercer said, looking at what was on the table. “Huh, can’t have you do this one. Take this instead.”

“What’s wrong with the other job?” I asked, eying both boxes dubiously.

“Need to take it to the old woods down south,” Mercer explained. “Only two metro stops down there, and neither are close to where its gotta go. Group took over an old sawmill and are trying to manage the forest, cutting and doing controlled burns and shit. They got in touch a while ago; they need supplies sometimes, and they make furniture, believe it or not. Corpos’ll pay big bucks for the real wood, handmade shit. I help facilitate both ways, but you need a car at least to go down there, or a big truck if they have stuff they need shipped up here.”

“Right, no car, understood,” I said, taking the other package and putting it in my backpack. “What’s this one?”

“Deliver to one Evangeline Mars,” Mercer said, shooting me the deets. “She’s on the other side of the city, but you can get there with the metro. She needs it today, so either find her at her house or track her down. I don’t care how, either, as long as things don’t go sideways. If you can’t find her, and only after putting some real effort in, then come back here and give that back. Understood?”

“Yeah, I got it,” I replied, standing.

“You still need boots, da?” asked Voronov before I could leave.

“Yeah, still haven’t got around to that. You got a fix?” I asked.

“Torovsky,” he said, sending a message at the same time. “Does boots and footwear, but also some clothes. Works on men, women, bigger, da? Kind of people like you and me, you see?”

“Right, right, I got it,” I said, seeing the guy was in the central district. “Central is pricey for a shoemaker.”

“Torovsky is pricey. You pay him well, da?” Voronov replied, doing a silent laugh, likely at the plight my wallet was about to be in.

“Right, understood. I’ll hit him up after I drop off the damn box,” I said, waving a hand and walking out.

I headed back to the metro, looking up at the early afternoon sun and deciding on one quick stop first. From all Mercer’s hints, this job might not be the easiest or fastest in the world, and I was getting real fucking hungry. I stopped by a place that did both synth-meat and real beef, splurging on a massive bowl of real beef and noodles. Considering how cheap most food was in the city, paying twenty-five creds for the one bowl was basically outrageous, but it was an absolute ton of food and it was mind-blowingly good, so I didn’t complain, other than in my mind. I would head over and drop this package off, stop by the cobbler’s shop to order a couple pairs of boots, and then head back to Mercer. Maybe I could get another job in, and, if not, then I could make a second stop, which was to get some armor. Doc’s flak jacket was great and all, but I had some money now, and I wanted something a little better. Figured I’d hit up the Colonel; with a tag like that, he probably knew where the good gun and armor shops were, or had his own outfit that could supply people.

I arrived at Evangeline’s door and immediately knew that the shopping trip, both shopping trips were out the window. Considering her door was open and there was a group of four people inside, I was thinking this wasn’t going to be a standard job, but I wasn’t rushing to conclusions. Especially since the four people, none of whom were Evangeline, looked like Scavs or gangsters, though some times these things were hard to tell. All four of them looked like Solos or Mercs, and I was proved right after walking up and sticking my head, seeing the patches the four had as they all turned to me.

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